


Il Dolce Suono

by clehjett



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Episode: s02e10 Naka-Choko, F/F, F/M, Gore, Hannibal is a Stalker, Hunting, M/M, Obsessive Hannibal Lecter, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Season 2 AU, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stalker Hannibal Lecter, Stalking, Will runs away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-08 14:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clehjett/pseuds/clehjett
Summary: Naka-choko S2 AUWill realises that Hannibal is in love with him, and that he loves him in return. Fearing this and the outcome of their dark consummation, he runs away hoping to grow old and to be never found by Hannibal, only to find that there is no where in the world you can hide from madness and the obsession of Hannibal Lecter.





	1. Quando rapito in estasi

**Author's Note:**

> I had a thought that if Will was smart enough to realize this is no ordinary relationship or obsession, and that Will does in fact love Hannibal back, he would be afraid of it. He knows how easy it is to fall, and he does not want to become. He knows Hannibal will never let him go, and he knows he could never cage him, so he decides to run.
> 
> this work and its titles are from Lucia di Lammermor my favourite opera because of the Fifth Element. I aspire to one day be able to sing the mad scene but its is CRAY

**When enraptured in ecstasy**

Will is running, fleeing what he has seen and what he knows. And what he has realised is that the pull Hannibal seems to have with him is something dark, possessive and not entirely one-sided. He runs, burying what he has seen deep and knows that this is going to be unbearable and painful, but the best way to prevent anyone from getting hurt again. He only hopes that he will be lost and forgotten, that he can kill what he is for long enough until he dies.

“How many more have there been? You never told me the number.” Will whispered, as Hannibal placed the finishing touches of a bandage on Will’s braised knuckles. Hannibal smiles a soft twitch of his pink lips and looks up into Will’s eyes. Will’s breath catches, glimpsing something dark, but not out of place on Hannibal. This is different, this is personal. The person suit is being lifted to let him peek under the curtain just for a bit, but what he sees overwhelms him.

“That is because there is none like you, Will. You asked about the ‘others’ I have treated. But the therapy that I used on them, and the therapy you are doing with me are entirely different.” Hannibal lifts a hand, and an echo of the memory of Hannibal cupping Will’s head in his hand in Peter’s stable flashes through Will’s mind. “You are, and always have been, my friend. And are utterly and terribly unique.”

Will’s breath is stolen from him, and he wants to rip his eyes from Hannibal’s. To tear this connection from him. But he knows that Hannibal will know this and does not want to seem weak. But all Will feels is this intensity, a surge of a connection that had been building since the moment he had promised his reckoning, igniting a flame when he had put a gun to his head, simmering when he had resumed his ‘therapy’. There was a primal need between them, and for the life of him, he cannot seem to break free of it. Will realised he was utterly enthralled, fallen into his own web, addicted to the truth of the darkness he had embraced in seducing Hannibal. He was lost. And he was afraid. Will’s mouth fell open and a gush of air swooped from his lips, as if he had taken his final breath. And Hannibal would see what was reborn was something magnificent, terrifying and worthy of the gods.

Hannibal leaned into Will, scenting his musk. Breathing deeply, every breath Will took seemed to be drawn deep within Hannibal instead. And Hannibal savoured it. Their eyes never wavered, even as Hannibal leaned further into Will’s space, and took his lips on his own. The ensuing chaos that began in the dining room, ended in Hannibal’s bed, even as Will stopped to take stock, it was all a blur of searing intensity. Will only saw Hannibal’s dark eyes, deep and bloody and solely focused on him. he had never witnessed such attention in his life. Hannibal’s hands surrounded him, and he sighed at the strong and rough hands on his skin, memorising his shoulders, his scars, his chest, brushing his nipples and down to his waist. He smoothed his hands down Hannibal’s back and stared back at the horned man gazing down at him. it was taking him, and he was not afraid. Will was surprised to find he was completely at ease, warm with the love it was giving him.

Love.

Will felt love from Hannibal. And that frightened him. A pair of lips found his nipples, then his navel and then it swallowed him whole. Will fell through the darkness and kept falling and falling until he could not know where the surface was any longer. All throughout he heard his name being whispered reverently again and again.

_Will… Will…. Will…._

And he shuddered every time. He felt it all. He was a god of all the kingdoms of men. The common pigs, and even the deluded pretenders. Here he belonged under the strength of the devil himself, and he was being worshipped by him. This man whom countless had been consumed by and mutilated. Will was the one being venerated. And his heart burst with it. He had no where else to go and he had a palace of rooms to be in. This was where he belonged. And it killed him. For he was now a god amongst men and there was no one like Hannibal that could understand him.

And no one like Will that could love Hannibal back. The juxtaposition of how joyous Will felt and the fear he nursed was a tang of sharp pain in his heart. He knew even before he was begging beneath Hannibal, begging for release from his grip, from his love. Gasping out his name and tears were being licked away by a ravenous monster whose tongue consumed every part of Will, that he had to run. To hell with Jack’s plan, it was nothing without him. As long as Will stayed away, Hannibal would remain free. He could not stay and be part of imprisoning something he loved. And yet he could not forgive him nor stay to witness his own dark becoming. He could not become. It would destroy the world. He had to go. To his death, away from the one thing that would kill to consume him.

He did not want this love. It was too much, too overpowering. Will cried tears of pain and heartbreak. He was already changed.

When he received Margot Verger the next night, he was in the middle of packing up the meagre things that would be taken with him into the next life. Will felt like spectre flitting about the graves of his former life. Twice he had been reborn and each time it was darker and people died because of it. When it became clear what Margot intended, Will coughed a laugh and capped the lovely bottle of whiskey she had brought. Reminding her of his lack of her preferred parts, he returned the gift of a fleeting memory of a time he had loved another such as her, and sent her off. Margot was not one to take no for an answer, but she was intelligent enough not to guess why Will was being so depressed. Even as he watched her drive away, he knew he could not stand to wait the night. A part of Will wondered if he should leave a note for alana about Margot, if anyone could help her, she could. But then, only someone like Hannibal could truly nudge Margot to freedom. Will knew he could not be leaving word with Jack Crawford. It was best he left as silently and mysteriously as possible. No loose ends. The one thing that broke Will’s heart to leave behind was his dogs. 7 furry heads that watched him devotedly, and for the first time in a long time, Will cried. Not the despairing orgasmic tears of the night before but true melancholy. He knelt by the beds and several warm bodies rose to their feet and approached him. He gave each their time of affection, saying their goodbyes even though they did not know it. All but one.

When Will was tossing bags into his truck, one furry head refused to return to the safety of the house. In the end, Will scattered all the dog food he had over the floor, filled all the bowls full of water and left his door propped open. That would be the only clue to Jack Crawford he was leaving. But when Winston stepped to Will and refused to leave his master, as if sensing his departure, Will knew he could not leave him. deciding it did not matter if the dogs peed all over a floor he would never step on again, he shut the door behind him, looking once more at morose dark eyes looking at him through a screen door, and drove away, with one companion and nothing of his old life.

Will did not know where he was going, but he knew he would be at least a bit less miserable with one friend at his side.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will's life of hiding is as peaceful as the turmoil inside. Try as he might, he cannot forget. 
> 
> At least there was Winston

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this chapter. I feel like its underdeveloped and missing something. it might change or i might delete this. 
> 
> Just returned from a short trip so im groggy.
> 
> But i'm happy to see you reading this :3

Will finds peace at last. Well, as close to is as he can. Tucked away on a small dingy fishing boat with no name to connect him to the past, all but a small mutt he found once on a fateful night, he finds a semblance of bliss. Will shuts his mind down, rejecting everything he had been before and emptying its contents so even he is unrecognisable to himself. He had moved around constantly, over land and finally overseas. Will decided the best place for a man to grow old and die is to disappear into obscurity. He had found big cities suffocating, and people were nosy. So, he fled to isolated villages and found solace in the calm of small towns and their simple life and people.

He finally settled on a small fishing village in Greece – large enough for light tourist traffic so an American would not stand out, but small enough that the people there did not really care if a single man with a dog often sold his catch at the local market. He had a small dinghy boat, a dog and nothing else. Will had shaved his head the first day he had left and maintained a crew cut all throughout his flight. When he arrived in the small Greek town, people often asked if he had been a soldier, and he had smirked and shook his head. His battles were fought in the mind and not the body. Although his body had taken much punishment too. He was now a crispy tanned, with the shape of his glasses forever embossed around his eyes, so much so he forsook them for fear it might be permanent. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened, from the sun and the passage of time, but it never stopped young girls from hitting on him when he came into the one shop in town, nor the old ladies and men from remarking on his ‘beauty’. He kept Winston’s coat almost as short as his own, the Greek sun often baking Will till his skin burned, he could only imagine what a dog with fur would feel like. They cooled themselves by swimming naked in the sea after a catch, then running along the beach away from the waterside town. Every day as Will rounded the bend of a small cliff where he usually fished, he would gaze upon the white façade of the town and hope he was not found today. Each day he would breathe a sigh of relief when he did not find a dark shape waiting for him in the tiny shack, he sometimes slept in. Most days, especially when he first came, he would simply sleep on the boat, not far from the shore. But over time, when day after day Hannibal did not come for him, he grew to be comfortable here.

Winston was getting slower each day, and it was only when the shaggy fur turned pale and his eyes were milking over, did Will realise how long he had spent here. He then would wonder what happened to his dogs, if Alana had found them homes. He would seldom give Jack thought, but he wondered what kind of thunderous expression was on his face when he realised Will had vanished. And finally, he would think of Hannibal’s reaction. Was he furious? Would he have been saddened? Or was he stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Will’s vanishing, telling himself he would return? Or, the one Will was most hopeful for but ironically most heartbroken by, that Hannibal had moved on. Went about his life like things had not changed, as if Will had never appeared in his life, and he had not been asked to psychoanalyse him. Jack would be smart enough not to mess with Hannibal now that Will was gone and he still lacked evidence, but he still would be watched. Will wondered if Hannibal’s life had changed at all if Will was gone?

Yes, was the answer. As much as he wanted to deny the deep obsession that was their relationship, Hannibal would never forget. And he would never forgive.

Will never forgot the lessons taught by Hannibal. Each time Hannibal got close enough, Will moved. Will always never kept an address or a place where he could be ambushed, after the first time he had lived in a barn off the highway in Ohio, when he found flowers in his mailbox. Carnations. _Missing you…_ It was no coincidence. Will immediately abandoned all he had and left with Winston. Since then he was more cautious than ever. But he found himself saddened at the thought of losing this beautiful place to Hannibal. Will fantasised a life where he was born in this little village, where the most complex things his mind would conjure was what the village would do if they found him stealing fruits. It made Will chuckle at the fact he would be a little criminal instead of what he was now. Better a fate than this death he was now in.

Will gathered his catch and rounded the bend from where his boat was docked. Whistling for Winston, and laughing at the dog jumping off the boat, splashing into the shallows and sending sprays of water everywhere in his haste to join Will.

“You always make me laugh, Winston.” Will chuckled, patting Winston’s ear. He could feel the dry quality to the fur the old age had on Winston, and sighed. “Light of my life… I wish I could grow old like you.” The odd couple trudged down the stone path and up to the markets. Will answered the friendly calls of the locals while avoiding the gaze of a widow from her balcony window where she always made lewd remarks about all the men that walked by. Shaking his head in amusement, Will reached the market, small but bustling, and sold most of his catch. This time he purchased some pork and beef, determined to make something nice for both himself and Winston.

“It’s our third-year anniversary Winston.” Will spoke to the mutt. The curious milky eyes locked in Will’s general direction and Winston despite not knowing what Will said, thumped his tail excitedly, the fur whipping Will’s shin. With a smile, they continued to Will’s rented shack. Will’s worn sandals kicked up sand and pebbles as he went and despite his aching bones, Winston bounded ahead, smelling everything, he had smelt a million times as if seeing it for the first time, occasionally coming back for an appreciative pet. Tonight’s dinner was going to be special – well as special as it got with Will Graham – he needed to give himself some consolation prizes for his efforts, and to thank Winston for his companionship.

As they neared the hut, Winston paused, head cocked, and hesitated a few feet away from the door. Will frowned, a few steps behind, until Winston ran back to Will and barked, pushing his torso protectively around Will’s legs. Will froze. Suddenly feeling afraid and unsure. Was it him? Had he finally come at least? Will tried not to feel the thrill of the adrenaline in him but focused on the dread. Backing away slowly, he tugged at Winton, grateful that he had not made too much noise. While the rest of the pack were at ease with Hannibal because he had fed them before, Winston remained suspicious of anything and everyone but Will. Again, Will had to thank Winston for his uncanny ability to see threats, perhaps a doggy version of Will’s empathy, and began jogging down the path to the cliffs again once they were out of earshot. Will’s breath shortened and quickened. He had to get back to the boat; leave, sail away as far as possible. Maybe he could make it to the mainland, restock and sail to Italy. It would be the longest he had ever gone on boat but at least he would be alone with nothing but the sea.

It had been a good 6 months, but it was time to move on. Will’s mind itched to find what Hannibal had left him in the hut, or even if he was really there this time, waiting for him in the dark, on the old rickety white chair Will had salvaged. But he could not. He could not reignite that part of himself. He could not see Hannibal. He needed to disappear again. He should never want to be with Hannibal and he never will. Will dutifully ignored the ache in his chest and walked away again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KUDO AND SUBSCRIBE :D

**Author's Note:**

> KUDO AND SUBSCRIBE :D
> 
> Comment to tell me I’m doing good
> 
> P. S. I do not consent to my work being reposted or used in any capacity elsewhere without my permission  
> Please do not repost or use my works in any ‘unofficial apps’


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